


Sing the Song of Sailing Sirens

by PrincessofHarte



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, ML Valentine's Day Exchange, Over two months late, Pirate AU, for lil-miss-purple, mermaid au, siren au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2016-04-19
Packaged: 2018-06-03 06:16:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6600025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessofHarte/pseuds/PrincessofHarte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For lil-miss-purple on tumblr.</p><p>Adrien Agreste is the Pirate Lord of the High Seas, chasing a British flagship until <em>Le Chat Noir</em> is blown off course into a green storm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sing the Song of Sailing Sirens

**Author's Note:**

> I am using this for the 2017 Sullivan Awards in Creative Writing at Stetson University.

Pirate Lord Adrien Agreste stands on his ship’s deck, surveying his crew. His first mate, Nino, stands at the helm, guiding them along. Kim swabs the deck. Max acts as lookout. Ivan cooks below deck, Nathanaël hangs off the side of the ship, scraping barnacles from the outside. Everyone knows that unless _Le Chat_ _Noir_ is spotless, Captain Agreste would be in a foul humor.

They are in uncharted territory, farther south than previously planned, an unnatural wind blowing them off course. They _were_ chasing after a British flagship, emphasis on “were.”

“See anything?” Adrien calls, taking over at the helm.

“Negative, Captain.”

Adrien growls under his breath, pulling his black hat low over his brow. The brim is upturned over one eye, the shadows making his green eyes glow. His coat billows in the wind, brushing back the longer parts of his hair. As the day rolls on, a mist rolls in. Adrien tries to subvert his galleon to no avail. The mist blocks out the sun rising far higher than Max would ever reach. Wary, Adrien calls for the sails to close, a hand resting on his saber. In the mist, even the sea is eerily silent. Slowly, the air turns sour, the crew coughing. In the midst of the racking noise of heaving chests, there is a splash and a muffled scream.

“Nathanaël!” Kim shouts, rushing over to the area the ginger was. All that remains is green goo, ghostly in the mist.

Adrien abandons the helm, hurrying to Kim’s side. He halts, thrusting his fingers into his ears; the clouds and sea begin singing.

“Harpies!” Max exclaims, pointing off the starboard bow. The harpies circle the ship, swooping at Adrien. He rolls out of the way, bumping into Nino. Nino holds out two wax earplugs, giving them to his captain. Adrien nods his thanks, hearing the harpies’ song for only a second before rising to his feet. They stand back to back, swiping at the harpies as they dive toward the crew. Out of the corner of his eye, Adrien sees two grab Ivan by the shoulders and take him away. Before he can react, Adrien is pitched forward, the galleon listing. He stumbles and Nino falls backwards, the two gazing at what can only be their doom; the tentacles of a Kraken weigh down the ship, and everything not tied down rolls toward the open maw of the beast. Immediately, the boards of the deck splinter under the weight, debris flying everywhere.

Behind him, he feels the vibrations of Nino shouting. Before he can turn to his first mate, claws rake across Adrien’s exposed back, prompting him to scuttle away.

“Nino!” the Pirate Lord shouts, clinging to the deck. Nino struggles with the claws of the harpy holding him, his rebelling useless. In the sky next to him, he sees Max strung along by his feet. The chaos is a perfect distraction for the blond; the Kraken wraps a tentacle around his leg, only to have it chopped off by Kim, who, in turn, is taken by the Kraken. Adrien slides after Kim, the boat too vertical to remain standing. Grunting when he reaches the ship’s banisters. He almost retches at the scent of the Kraken, far too close. Another harpy reaches down to catch him, prodded away with his sword. The Kraken roars, and Adrien sees his only way out. Sheathing his weapon, Adrien dives into the sea, narrowly missing the clacking beak of the Kraken and its appendages.

As soon as he hits the water, he loses his hat and swims for the seafloor, eyes clenched to keep the salt out. The current around him is turbulent, confusing him as to the direction he dives. To his left, he feels a strong current spin him around before something grabs his wrist and leads him through the ocean. Adrien jerks away, swimming in the opposite direction of where the thing was taking him. He doesn’t get far. Something strong wraps around his legs, keeping him from escaping. He struggles, moving to reach his sword but he is too slow.

“No!” he attempts to shout, forgetting that he would lose his air. He knows the creature that has him, a Siren of the Sea, a mermaid. It is at this point in time that Adrien regrets diving into the sea. According to myth and rumor, at least the harpies would kill him quickly; the sea witches take their time drowning their victims before forcing the victims to impregnate their captors.

The force on his legs lets him go. Vainly, he tries to swim away, only to have her grab him by his wrists. _No_ , he thinks, opening his mouth to inhale the sea, to let the ocean drown him before the mermaid, to let him die on his own terms. However, the sea does not grant his request. It must have been due to his impeccable bad luck, always sailing through the worst storms and somehow surviving and having to deal with the guilt of those who did not. The mermaid kisses his open mouth, breathing air into his constrained lungs, her hands keeping him in place. Adrien gasps, drawing her in. It is a reflex, something he wishes his body would stop doing. One final time, he twists, trying to free his arms, but failing.

She keeps hold of him, her mouth never moving from his, as they move. With her strength, he is naught but a limp doll. Adrien lets go of the tension in his muscles, defeated.

At least, that is until he feels the pressure in his ears.

Instead of becoming harder, thicker, popping, the pressure lessens. The mermaid lets go of his mouth as they breach the surface of the sea. Releasing one of his wrists, she drags him behind her to who knows where. She lets him drift as she swims beneath him, setting him free. Adrien can do nothing but gasp and try to fill his lungs. He must be hallucinating. That’s the only reason as to why he thinks she let him go. His brain is starved of air, and he’s hallucinating.

The thought is ripped from his mind when he loses his air again, but this time, due to something slamming into is side and throwing him into the air. Adrien lets out a shout when he lands, finding grainy ground beneath him instead of the rocking sea. On his side, he lies, his mind foggy. _Do mermaids make sleep?_ he wonders incoherently over a myth he has forgotten. His eyelids don’t open and his mind darkens, pulling him into a lair of unconsciousness.

* * *

Hours later, Adrien groans, coughing and spouting water. His throat is raw and his ears are clogged, but he can faintly hear a voice calling his name. Adrien’s eyes widen when something jostles his shoulder hard, shifting backwards to discover his first mate.

“Nino?” he asks, but coughs, unable to hear himself. Nino towers over him even though he is kneeling. Nino reaches a hand to the side of Adrien’s head, pulling an earplug out of his ear. Adrien groans as he feels part of the skin in his ear go with it, but at least he can hear. He doesn’t complain as Nino repeats the process with his other ear.

“Dude, you have no idea how fucking lucky you are,” Nino states, tossing the earplugs to the side.

Adrien wheezes, trying to respond, but Nino hushes him. “If it had been any other mermaid, you would’ve been dead.”

“What—”

“Shush.” Adrien blinks at the sound of a new voice, a female voice. “Nino, he’s taken in a lot of water.”

“Do you know how long he’s been here?”

“At least three hours, according to Marinette, but she’s not certain. Time flows differently below the sea.”

Adrien blinks slowly, his mind still not cooperating as he tries to process what they’re saying.

“Everything’s ready at the village?”

“Of course.”

Adrien tunes out their banter, his head beginning to throb. A cloud passes over the sky, revealing the moon and unfamiliar constellations. He hisses as Nino turns Adrien on his side, sliding an arm underneath his armpit and hauling him to his feet. Adrien stumbles, collapsing to his knees, retching as the remaining water in his system leaves through his mouth.

Nino sighs and holds back the longer strands of Adrien’s hair before helping him back to his feet. Adrien places all of his weight on his first mate, unable to feel his feet, too tired. On his other side, Adrien feels another arm slip under his other armpit and take some of his weight off Nino. Slowly, they stumble off the beach, carrying the dripping captain between them. Adrien doesn’t lift his head as the light of the moon is hidden by a forest of trees and the sand turns to grass. He doesn’t acknowledge the change from grass to dirt, the silence of wind to the noise of voices.

Nino and the girl set Adrien down in front of a roaring fire, the speaking halting. Adrien shivers at the change in temperature, welcoming it.

An older voice interrupts the silence. “Is this the mermaid’s boy?”

Adrien lifts his head, staring between the fringes in his bangs. His glare silences the man. Casual chatter rises again, but is hushed. Adrien can feel the eyes of the villagers on him, can hear their conversations surrounding his arrival. He doesn’t know why, but he is alive.

“Captain?” a voice asks, husky. Immediately, he recognizes it as Ivan’s. Adrien glances at him sideways, finding Max standing by the cook. His surprise does not show on his face as he scans the men around them, searching for other members of his crew. Just Anextra, he finds conversing with someone, the same for other members. However, the two significant members, Kim and Nathanaël, are nowhere to be found.

“They didn’t make it,” Nino answers, observing what Adrien is doing.

Adrien closes his eyes, the space between his eyebrows bunching. Even waterlogged, half drowned, frozen, and starved, Pirate Lord Agreste makes his men tremble. Adrien’s legs are spread, an arm resting on one, the hand hanging off his thigh. Hunched over, he rests his head on his other hand, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Heh,” the others hear. Ivan and Max back away, recognizing Adrien’s calm anger. Adrien’s eyes narrow as he stares into the fire, the orange and yellow reflecting in his sclera. He rises to his feet, stiff. Everyone follows his movements, hanging onto his words. “They will not have died in vain,” he states, vengeance hidden behind his words. “I can guarantee it.”

Turning, Adrien leaves the center of the village, returning to the beach. Nino follows, waving everyone off as they try to pursue, all except for the girl who helped carry him.

Adrien stands on the precipice of the beach, swaggering onto the sand. The moment he lays foot on the granules, he falls to his knees. _I can’t do this right now_. Adrien fights against his body, hauling himself across the sand to the sea. He staggers to his feet, feeling Nino watching him. When he reaches the waterfront, he pauses, listening to the crash of the sea against a rock. It juts out from the ocean, jagged on the side he can see. That’s not what causes him respite; atop the rock is a figure, feminine in silhouette. The creature gasps when Adrien pointedly stares at it.

“Marinette!” the girl behind him calls. The creature turns slightly, responding to the name. Adrien follows its gaze to the girl and Nino, standing hand in hand farther up the beach. He turns back to the creature, but it—Marinette—is gone.

“Who was that?” he asks, gesturing to the sea.

“That was the One Who Rises—Marinette, the mermaid who saved you,” the girl responds. Adrien stares at her, switching his gaze to Nino then back to her. She wears nothing, only some of her extremities covered by her long hair. Yet they act as if this is the most normal thing to ever occur and is nowhere indecent.

“And you are…?”

“Alya, the harpy who tried saving your sorry ass.” Adrien steps back, wary, but with a nod from Nino, allows her to lead him away.

* * *

It would be another week before he would see Marinette again. In that time, he bides, gathering information.

The island, he learns, is massive and by all means shouldn’t exist. The trees never die; in the winter months, the leaves become yellow and brittle, but never fall, and the orchards continue to produce fruits. In the center of the island is an oblong lake, the water a blue far too deep for its shallow depth. According to Rose, the one harpy that lives nearest to the lake, the water is what keeps the islanders young and relatively immortal. The same goes for the various creatures Adrien’s seen, for the most part.

He also learns that harpies taking, eating, and outright murdering sailors was commonplace, but is no longer. Harpies murdering for sport is an archaic myth, one spread rapidly by the mermaids after the harpies decided they did not have the right to take a life or leave it for avoidable death. This originally began as a protest against a previous merqueen, but the practice ceased after she died, being replaced by a queen who understood the value of life. From the garbled, drunken speech of an islander, Adrien discovers that should a mermaid require the services of man, she would rise to the surface and request a willing participant’s services, but since the rise of a brand new queen, that has fallen out of favor and has returned to the original rebelling.

According to the harpies and the villagers who have seen her, Marinette is nothing like that. She tends to sit on the rock by the shore and speaks with whomever is around.

“She’s lonely,” Alya comments without elaborating when Adrien asks. (She was observing him speak to everyone else first and was annoyed that she was one of the last people he approached.) Alya takes wing and leaves Adrien to his thoughts.

Adrien wanders the beach, thinking of the silhouette that saved him. According to the villagers, she is one of the most beautiful creatures they have ever lain eyes on. The elders say she is different from other mermaids, mainly citing her tail being pink instead of blue or green. Only intoxicated do they make comments about her size, but their conversations are quickly halted by the harpies, normally Alya.

Despite himself, Adrien wonders. She saved him. She doesn’t deserve his hate. She is a mermaid. The mermaids deserve his hate. He paces across the sand, weighing his options.

1) Trick the mermaid into getting them off the island.

That would work so well. Next.

2) Kill the mermaids in revenge for Kim and Nathanaël.

The harpies would kill us. Next.

3) Build a boat and travel to the nearest supernatural-free island.

Not enough sturdy materials for that to happen anytime soon. Next.

4) Have the harpies—

A splash and a groan pull his mind away, directing it to the rock jutting out the ocean. Watching the rock, he finds a rounded blob on the rock. Its head is misshapen, angular in the lackluster light. An appendage reaches around and grabs part of itself, wringing out what turns out to be hair. Adrien takes a step towards the creature, hands on knives he didn't lose in the ocean incase the creature decides to touch this beach.

After wringing out her hair, the Siren sees Adrien and drops off the rock, hiding behind it. (Adrien can only tell because the feather sticking out from her hat is above the water.) Adrien stares. The villagers never said anything about a mermaid wearing clothing. They also said nothing about mermaids showing up at night, but then again, he didn't ask. Only one Siren spends the time to take herself out of the water, the villagers said.

For some reason, the flash of rage he normally feels towards the mermaids doesn't rise. Instead, his mother's face enters his mind, reminding him to be a gentleman, not that it helped any out on the High Seas. He returns his gaze to her head,  stating, “Can I have my hat back?”

He recognizes it. Of course he would recognize it. He bought it when _the Chat Noir_ had her maiden voyage, and it served him well for 5 years.

The Siren made a squeak before ascending the rock once more.

Jaunting closer to the water’s edge, he states, “I can come over there and get it.” It wouldn’t be far; the rock is only a few hundred feet off shore.

“NO!” she shouts, holding out the “o” and making the word lyrical.

“No?” Adrien continues to proceed in removing his shoes and his shirt, unbuttoning his remaining buttons.

“The Kraken is here.” There is another splash as the mermaid hastily slips into the ocean, swimming closer. She closes the distance between the rock and the shore by half, tossing the hat the rest of the way. Adrien catches it in his arms, the brim partially limp. They stare at each other, the atmosphere charged. The eyes of the night, the stars seem to hang in anticipation, the moon asking, _What will you do now?_

Siren drops her gaze first, lowering herself in the water up to her shoulders. This has to be her.

“Who are you?”

Her gaze flicks up before returning to the murky water. She sings, “Marinette.”

The world narrows to the face of the Angel of the Sea, her face glowing. Everything around her is hazy. Adrien steps toward her, watching her face move. She frowns. Why is she frowning? She sings again, causing him to smile, drunk on her voice. Her eyebrows scrunch, her lips purse. Hastily, she dips below the water, her tail splashing the surface, drenching him. She rises again farther away, next to the rock.

Adrien blinks, the area around him returning into focus. The Siren, Marinette, clutches the rock, head peeking out from a crevice. Adrien gasps, panting as he breathed in the ocean vapor. His chest constricts, his throat tight as if someone were choking him. He experienced it once before and does not recommend it. He closes his eyes as pain blooms behind them, blocking his thoughts effectively.

“I’m sorry,” she sings. He can hear the magic in her voice, “I can’t help it.” Her voice still pulls on his heart, the tug a dull pain, but resistible.

“Do you always sing?” he asks, clutching his chest.

“Yes. I can't control it.” Her voice is a low burn in his chest. She is dangerous. “You’re the first person to react like that.”

“Like what?” He fumbles with the buttons, his slender fingers feeling like sausages.

“To actually come towards me.”

Adrien agonizes over what to say. He wants to know more. He wants to keep the conversation going. He wants to thank her. For some reason, his mind and his mouth won't work together. What power this minx has!

A splash behind Marinette startles them both. She says, “I have to go.” Slipping off her rock into the water, she asks, “Come back tomorrow night?”

Adrien nods before correcting his mistake and blurting, “Sure. Yes. Of course.” Great. Now he's babbling like an idiot.

She smiles, the moonlight glinting off her teeth. “See you tomorrow, Pirate.”

Adrien stupidly grins back, jerking himself out of his infatuated state just in time for her to leave. “Marinette, Wait!”

His only response is a splash. He doesn’t get to thank her.

The next night, after much inquiry by Alya, Nino, and the rest of his crew, he visits her again, more composed, less stuttered, blushing the entire time though neither of them can see it. Tomorrow becomes a promise at the end of each night. Tomorrow becomes a nectar, so sweet, and one that Adrien can taste each night. It numbs his thoughts, strays his mind away from revenge and escape to enjoying the now. A look at his crew and he can see that none of them wish to leave. Has he undermined himself by giving up escape? Nay. He isn’t trapped. Well, he is captive, but captive to the strange twisting freedom that lifts from the ocean each night.

Tomorrow becomes the next day. The next day becomes the next week. The next week becomes the next month. The next month becomes the next season. The next season becomes the next year. And Adrien doesn’t care.

* * *

With the moon night over the island, Adrien leaves the circle of huts, stepping around Nino’s prostrate form. He makes his way to the western beach, his feet wearing away at the grass, less of it now compared to when he began this escapade months ago. As he is about to leave the confines of the woods, he freezes, hearing a soft tune. It starts out low, barely louder than the crash of the waves. Adrien doesn’t have to search for the source; with the moonlight illuminating the beach, he can easily spot her sitting on a rock, staring out at the sea.

Her hair clings to her, wet, falling in waves. Some of the hair parts revealing the alabaster smooth skin of her back. His eyes trail from the top of her head down to the beginning pink of her tail. She isn’t sitting back, leaning on her hands and arms like she normally would. Judging by the curve of her spine, she is hunched over slightly. Immediately, he wants to run to her, but a hand on his shoulder holds him in place.

Adrien spares but a glance to the harpy on his left. “She’s beautiful, no?” Alya asks, noticing his gaze. She spots a glisten of tears on his cheeks. “You’ve never heard her purposefully sing before?”

The Pirate Lord shakes his head, unwilling to let his voice drown out Marinette’s. The sound of her voice brings one of the most fearsome creatures of the High Seas to his knees.

Alya sits next to him, asking, “Do you want to know why you’ve never heard her sing this way?”

Adrien continues to stare at the mermaid, pondering. In all of the tales he has heard about mermaids, their beauty and their singing is said to draw sailors in before the sailors are never seen from again. _Marinette isn’t like that,_ he thinks, recalling how she put him on shore instead of seabed, how she blushed when he called her beautiful, as if she never considered herself as even pretty, how she never sang with pride. Marinette, though she had saved him and they shared several nights together for months, is an enigma.

Shaking his head, Adrien gives Alya a pained look, nods, and refocuses his gaze on his princess.

“Before I can tell you about Marinette, I have to tell you about the Siren hierarchy, okay?” Alya’s voice is low, quiet enough that Adrien can hear Marinette easily when the wind carries her voice away. “As you know, there are two types of Sirens, harpies and mermaids. We harpies are on the lower end of the seducing spectrum. We have our feathers, our songs of seduction, our bodies, but that’s basically it. We’re confined to an island, unable to move far out to sea before we return to our human forms.

“The mermaids though, are different. Sure, they have their tails, their songs of seduction, and their bodies, but it’s much more than that. They can control the sea and all of its creatures. The more powerful the mermaid, the more powerful the creature she can command. Normally, you can tell the differences in strength from their tail colors: the blues and greens are more common, able to blend in well with the sea; the other colors are more powerful. As far as I know, there are only two mermaids left with different-colored tails, Chloé Bourgeois—”

“And Marinette,” he supplies, breaking his silence.

“And Marinette,” she repeats. “However, Marinette has no special power. Chloé can control the sea and the air above it with the assistance of her crown. It’s how she was able to draw your ship in. Marinette can barely manipulate people with her voice, let alone control it.”

“But she’s—”

“Making you cry. I noticed. You’re reacting to her song. Something happened you want to tell me about?”

Adrien shakes his head, thinking of his lost mother. Twelve years have passed and the wound is still tender.

Alya shrugs, continuing, “Marinette’s tail is the only thing keeping her alive, but it also makes her hunted.”

Adrien glances at her quizzically.

“Her tail is pink, right? When she was younger, sharks and predators would follow her. Several managed to take bites out of her, but those wounds have healed. The last attack was eight seasons ago. It was right off the shore too. She was trying to make it to the rock to save herself, but she couldn’t. Her father jumped in after her. She was set free, but her father…Tom…”

Adrien doesn’t recognize the name; none of the members of the hut village have that name.

“He was a good man. Within the season, Mari’s mom died of a broken heart, making Chloé queen. She sings for them. It’s the only thing she thinks she can do. She blames herself.”

“She’s lost,” he states, remembering. His father was a great merchant, his mother, the best accountant on the seas. They were on two different ships—Adrien and his mother on one while his father inspected the other—when a hurricane blew in, the gale forces destroying everything. He remembers his mother holding him as the boat capsized, the masts falling and obliterating the decks. He remembers his mother putting her necklace over his head, her hands freezing as they caressed his cheeks. He remembers the rancid seawater and the turmoil and the confusion and the lack of air. Most of all, he remembers the lost feeling that came with the guilt and grief over his mother. It has been 12 years since Adrien Agreste was picked up by privateers, since he learned how to swordfight on rocky seas, since he spent mindless hours scraping barnacles off the sides of boats, since he drew his first blood and pillaged the High Seas. It has been 12 years of silent crying and fake laughter and internal screaming, locking her and her power over his heart behind a shoddy dam which always leaks before cracking and needing mortar. It has been 12 years, yes, but her death is a recurring nightmare; her name is a sledgehammer.

The tears freely flow and his breathing becomes more ragged and hitched as he clutches the metal star necklace in his fingers. Slipping its chain from his neck, he breathes, “Alya.”

The harpy gauges him.

“Take this to Marinette,” he pleads. “Let her know she’s not alone. Let her know it wasn’t her fault.”

Nodding, Alya takes the jewelry from him. Standing, stretching, arching her back, Alya lolls her head and shifts, wings sprouting on her arms and feet breaking as they turn into claws. Squatting, she leaps into the air.

Adrien’s eyes trail her as she moves, prompting him to stand. _I won’t let her be alone_ , he decides, leaving the foliage and entering the sand. The mermaid stops singing as the harpy drops the necklace. He can see her silhouette twist, can feel her eyes on him. Alya hovers for a moment before returning to the village. Adrien keeps his momentum, walking ever closer to Marinette. He is slow, waiting for her reaction; whenever she is emotional, she flees.

Only feet away from the edge of the ocean, she slips off her rock with a splash. Adrien hesitates before walking those six final steps. Marinette, he figures, hasn’t gone back with the Kraken. He sits, only mildly startled to find her head slip up from the water directly in front of him. She doesn’t say anything as she raises herself from the sea, leaning halfway across his lap as she encircles his arms around his waist. The necklace beats against his leg and her chest. Stiff, Adrien jerks himself out of his stupor and wraps his arms around her shoulders, holding her head to his chest. He rests his forehead in her hair, breathing in a not unpleasant smell of salt and brine.

She makes a noise. It isn’t singsong. It isn’t loud. The closest thing he can think of is hiccoughing, but she doesn’t bounce. When the pitch raises, he realizes his mistake; she’s crying. No tears fall from her eyes as her body is unable to produce them. Her grief is evident. Adrien tightens his grip on her, humming a song he vaguely remembers his mother singing for him as a young child.

How long they stay like that, neither can say. The moon is near setting when they part, gooseflesh pimpling Marinette’s skin as she returned to the sea. Her hair, mostly dry, curls around her face, accentuating her eyes. This is among the closest he has ever been to her. Adrien moves with her, rising from his behind to kneeling before her. He reaches out, hand moving a strand behind her ear. She smiles, leaning into his hand with her cheek and holding his hand there. Together, they lean forward, staring at each other all the same. Her eyes close first, the blues filled with something _more_ , her face filled with expectancy, anticipation. There is a soft intake of breath on her end as he tilts his head, closing his eyes. They meet, their lips fumbling. Over the course of his 26 years of life, Adrien has been kissed far too many times to count, done far too many promiscuous deeds with promiscuous women (and one man when he was inebriated, but Nino won’t tell him how far things went, just blush extremely badly to the point where he was a cherry). This kiss would be—no, is his most memorable. It isn’t because of the brine of the sea, of the salt on her lips, of the sand and the ocean and the salt. It’s not even because she is a creature he never believed to exist. It is because _she_ is a creature he never believed to exist.

She parts her mouth, biting his lower lip, eliciting a moan from him. He can feel her smile against him. She runs a webbed hand through his hair, wetting it and the side of his face. He leans into her, pushing himself farther over the water until she nudges him back, breaking their hold on each other’s face. She guides his hand lower, slipping it below the water along her torso and resting it on her breast. She laughs as his face turns crimson. Siren indeed. Relaxing into his hand, she kisses his burning face and slips away, her face mischievous.

From the stories of the elders, Adrien knows that Marinette is inviting him to join her below the sea. From his knowledge of her guard, Adrien knows she’s teasing him.

“Thank you,” she sings, breaking her physical hold on him, strengthening her mental hold.

“Marinette…”

The One Who Rises laughs, blowing him a kiss before slipping away, heading home before suspicions are raised in the Aquatic Court. Adrien breathes, struggling to contain himself. He sits back on his knees, finding himself in discomfort. One glance down confirms his suspicions. “ _Fuck._ ”

Hours later, the sun shining, Nino finds him on the beach, as per Alya’s mentioning.

“What’s up with you?” he asks, staring down at his captain.

“Women.”

For the rest of the month, Nino is on chaperone duty whenever Adrien decides to visit Marinette (if he remembers to stay awake, at least).

* * *

“Adrien!” Alya shouts, swooping down at him from the sky. Adrien is about to give her a curt reply, but notices the fear in her eyes, the urgency in her voice, and the grim look on her face. She continues, flapping her wings, “We have to hurry! It’s Marinette!”

 _Marinette_. At the sound of the name of the creature who stole his heart, Adrien takes off running, ignoring the knowing looks the other islanders give him, but remembering their faces to kick their arses later. Adrien figuratively flies through the trees while Alya literally flies through the canopy, knocking free leaves and branches. They make it to the beach at the same time, Adrien slowing on the sand and Alya soaring in the open sky. The harpy zooms over to Marinette’s rock, hovering over it in a slow circle with Juleka and Mylène. Adrien falls forward, stumbling into the sand when he spots why they act like vultures; hanging over the jagged side of the rock, skin gray and dry is Marinette. He can’t see all of her, only her hair and the arm that hangs low. Adrien has seen death before, has caused death before, but never this.

“Adrien!” Nino’s hands pull Adrien to his feet and guide him to the water’s edge. Adrien staggers until Nino slaps him. “Snap out of it. Alya, I don’t think he can handle it.”

“He has to, or she won’t survive,” Alya shouts back.

“She’s alive?” Adrien’s voice is incredulous.

“Yeah, but barely,” explains Nino. “We don’t know how long she’s been out here for—”

“At least all night!” the harpy interjects. Impossible. He was out here last night with her. She left to go back home, and he to the village. From the stars, he saw it was well past three a.m. when they retired. How—

“And she’s been attacked. It’s bad. Her tail, it’s—”

“It’s bad. Adrien we can’t carry her without hurting her. Brace yourselves!”

Alya, Juleka, and Mylène swoop down, Mylène grabbing her shoulders, Alya her waist, Juleka her tattered tail. The sounds of their talons gouging into her flesh is something that Adrien will not soon forget, especially the way she hangs limp, not even acknowledging the pain. How can she be alive?

Nino shouts at Adrien, tugging on his arms, extending them. Adrien’s knees clack as he watches the harpies drop her. Both he and Nino buckle as Marinette lands in their arms. Her skin is ashen, her hair tangled. Adrien drops his eyes to her bare torso, finding his mother’s necklace scratched and covered in red flecks. He can’t bring himself to look at the rest of her, at the red and pink below her breasts.

Distantly, he hears Nino dry heave. Distantly, he sells the rotten smell of her flesh, dying in his arms. Alya flaps her wings in his face, shouting, tears streaming from her wide eyes. She is angry. The left side of his face stings; Nino slaps him. The white noise in his ears fades away to Nino’s voice, Alya’s voice, the harpies’ screeches.

“The lake!” he repeats. “If we get her to the lake, she can live! The lake!” Adrien nods barely, vaguely understanding. His shock lessens and is replaced with determination as they rise. The Lake of Miracles. Rumor says it is what Christopher Columbus searched for.  The harpies say that the lake provides life to the dead, fertility to the infertile, youth to the old. However, the reverse is true.

Nino and Adrien rush up the hillside, carrying the mermaid between the two of them. She doesn’t make a word. She doesn’t make a single movement. Only the fluttering pace of her heartbeat, weak and dying, lets the Pirate Lord know that she’s alive. When they reach the village, the imbeciles who joked about Adrien and his star-crossed lover can only stare, mortified. Some of these men belonged to his crew. Some of these men have seen worse. Some of these men saw her father’s injuries when they tried saving Tom years before Adrien ever arrived, when Marinette was still young.

Those who met Tom, who knew of Sabine’s kindness are the first to shout, the first to run ahead and clear the pathway to the lake.

Others believe that Adrien is but a foolish boy, nothing like the rumors call him.

“If you take her there, you’ll die.”

“I’m willing to let that happen.”

“What did that mermaid ever do for you?”

“She saved me, and I’m saving her, or did you forget that?”

Ivan shoves the man blocking their path out of the way, propelling the three of them forward. When Rose’s tree comes into sight, Adrien only slightly relaxes, halting when Nino immediately stops. Adrien stumbles, jostling the girl in his arms. His heart breaks at the silent twist of her face. Giving Nino a pointed look, he frantically readjusts his hold on Marinette, taking all of her weight. His face turns white when his left hand dips into one of her wounds, the flesh just barely moist and the bone dry.

“I can't go past this point,” Nino says, his eyes locking with those of his captain. “None of us can.”

“Not even the Harpies can pass,” Alya continues. “It is a sacred place. It's a place of life, when it comes.” Her gaze goes to the mermaid’s tail. “And of death.”

“No one knows what will happen when you enter the water,” explains Rose. “All we can tell you is that death will happen.” Rose is the only living being that has been in the waters of the lake when life is not abundant. She was trying to save her lover from one of the other islanders. Her lover had been shot. The life of the man who initiated the attack was taken as appeasement, but it was far too late. From the sky, they say the lake ran azure, darker than ever.

“She could live.” Adrien observes the faces of the people around him. “She could live.”

Nino nods, tears welling in his eyes. Silent, he raises a hand to his forehead, the last salute for a dead man. The rest of his crew follow suit. They know that Adrien won't come back alive; either she live and he die, or they both die.

“It's been a pleasure working with you, Captain.”

“Sing a shanty and pass a round for me tonight.”

“Aye.”

Adrien turns his back on the pirates, the harpies, the islanders, the life he only began to cherish. His soul is strung around the one in his arms, their lives intertwined years before they ever met. She saved him not once, but several times before, even if she didn't know it. It is his time to return the favor.

The moment his bare feet touch the water, Adrien shivers, gripping her tighter to his chest. Each step forward is a battle against the coalescing water, both trying to reject him and drown him with his movements. The water becomes gel as his knees are covered. His breathing labors as he trudges, kicking up the dirt on the lake’s bed. When he is waist deep in the center of the lake, he lowers her into it, dropping to his knees to cradle her head above the water. Her face by his ear, he can hear her breaths, shallow and slight but still there.

Looking up, Adrien finds that a mist has rolled in, thick and blocking the blue sky. The water reflects it, turning white all but for where it is murky from blood. Adrien feels his hair stand on end and his body trembles from the energy alive in the space around them. It is an old presence, he senses before it reaches into his mind.

 _Pirate,_ it whispers, the voice unintelligible, indistinguishable, overpowering, assertive. _I have graced you with the opportunity to live a complete life, a longer life, free of disease and death. You have heard the stories. You know the truths. And yet you still come._

The presence observes him from everywhere and nowhere at once, eyes stabbing into him from all sides.

_She will die._

“You can save her.” It is not a question, nor is it a request, only a statement.

_She will die._

“We’ll all eventually die.”

_She will die._

“You can save her.”

_You do not know what you ask._

“Please.” Adrien keeps his gaze on the mermaid in his arms, never once not staring at her without adoration.

The air around them crackles, waiting on the answer to one word. _Why?_

“Because I love her,” Adrien responds without hesitation. As his words sink in, Adrien realizes what he just said. Never has he admitted it out loud, the name of the word which explains the crush on his chest every moment he thinks of her, the heat that floods him and fills his broken soul, overflowing it with the essence of something more.

As if the other tangle of his soul hears him, a soft breath vocalizes itself from her throat. Her head, only her face out of the water, turns toward his. Her mouth moves, but no other noise comes out, her lips forming a soft shape.

_No?_

It isn't directed at Adrien.

 _“No,”_ she repeats, hoarse and low. Adrien bends down, lowering the rest of his torso into the water, crouching buoyant in the lake. He peppers kisses on her cheeks, overjoyed at finding her more alive than she'd been in the past 15 minutes. She gives a groan of protest, her eyes clenched.

The pressure in the air around them lowers, the air turning cold and battering the water. Adrien ignores it, pressing his forehead to hers. “Marinette. Marinette, Marinette, Marinette.” Her eyelashes flutter against his cheek.

Around them, the voice booms, _What would you give to save her?_

“Anything,” answers Adrien immediately.

_Even your life?_

“Anything.”

Marinette continues to whisper “no,” the sound doing nothing to deter Adrien as it reaches his ears.

_I see._

This, again, was not directed at him.

_An equivalent exchange must be made, Pirate: your life for hers._

Adrien kisses Marinette once more, a sliver of fear gripping his chest, but hidden and outweighed by his need for her survival. She has to live. She has to.

“Anything.”

The mist gathers, thickening, graying, darkening. The dry hair on Adrien’s head and face stand stiff as the air cackles with the sense that lightning was about to strike. Silence fills the atmosphere, the water placid as if in the eye of a hurricane. Marinette mumbles a noise, seeming to please the being.

_Very well._

The clouds descend on them, angry. They choke the air that Adrien breathes, filling his lungs, every hitch in his throat damp. He turns away from Marinette, holding on to her with only one arm as he hacks, the building mucous in his throat compounding with the air. Water collects in his chest, pain hampering his ability to stay upright. He fails to stay above the sea water, losing hold of Marinette entirely. Waves crash over his head, a current beneath the lake ripping him away from the epicenter of the attack, drawing him deep. Adrien fights, knowing that he agreed to this, that he agreed to death. It is only logical that he die by drowning; he should’ve died this way months ago. If he had, then Marinette would’ve never been in this situation.

Still, he fights; bubbles release from his lips, the last of his air. He tries to follow them to the surface, but he is spun as the water aches from the disruption, losing his sense of direction. His lungs scream for him to take a breath, but he forces his mouth to remain closed. Something knocks into his stomach, forcing him to inhale the water. It is Marinette’s tail, he notices, the skin glowing red as wounds heal. His vision grows spotty, black blocking out color. One last glance at her, and he sees green.

**Author's Note:**

> If you can't tell by the fact that this is two months and five days overdue, then you probably can't tell that I'm also not satisfied with how the story currently is. There are many scenes that are missing (as seen with the lines as time jumps). However, I cannot continue in Adrien's perspective. Whenever I try to do something with Adrien, his voice goes everywhere, be it through reading fics out loud for authors or for writing. Geeze, Adrien. You need to get your act together.
> 
> Anyhow, don't fret. The next chapter will be out sometime in the summer months (because IB exams are evil).


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